


'Cause Wings Are Made To Fly

by sparkling_cider



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 04:08:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15597969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkling_cider/pseuds/sparkling_cider
Summary: Simon has this great idea that he should try to actually fly with these great wings he has. Baz thinks that maybe the idea isn't so great.





	'Cause Wings Are Made To Fly

**Author's Note:**

> Title borrowed from the Little Mix song "Wings."

"So, I have wings," Simon says on one sunny afternoon when Baz doesn't have school and Penny is out of town visiting Micah.

"Don't do anything stupid," she'd said before she left, which is ridiculous because it isn't although her presence has ever exactly stopped stupid things from happening. They just… happen in a more orderly fashion when Penny is around. For the time being, however, Penny's in America, and there's only Baz around to witness the mess that is, perpetually, Simon Snow.

"How astute of you to notice," Baz says, smirking at him from the couch, where he has been pretending to read for the past hour or so. Simon gives him an exasperated look, which Baz thinks is a bit rich coming from someone who's splayed out on the floor like an exhausted starfish.

"I meant," Simon says, "that wings are generally used to fly. By birds."

"Simon, darling, I can't even come up with a proper reply. You've rendered me entirely speechless with your capacity for stating both the obvious and the irrelevant at once. I think I'm going to swoon."

This bit of sophisticated humor on Baz's part is rewarded with an annoyed snort.

"I'm just saying that I know I haven't really tried to fly, since the, you know, the…" He makes a vague gesture. "But I think I'd like to. It was—well, I was kind of thinking about other things at the time, but it seems like a cool thing to do."

"It seems," Baz repeats, deadpan, "like a cool thing to do."

"I mean, I'm already—I've already done it, so why not, and it's not like you've got any other plans for today."

Baz, through an enormous effort of will, forces himself to sit up straight so that he can do his towering over Simon bit without actually standing up.

"For one thing, I have indeed got plans for today," Baz says in a drawl, which he has to admit isn't his best given that it's far too hot to be properly condescending. Simon pushes himself off the floor and looks up at Baz, raising both eyebrows in a grotesque display of disbelief.

" _You've_  got plans?"

"Some of us do value our education, Snow. I was going to catch up on my reading."

"You can do that while I'm flying around, can't you?" Simon asks, cocking his head in a way that he  _knows_  is disturbingly adorable.

"Hm, let me think about it," Baz says. "No."

Simon rolls his eyes and stands.

"I found a field that should be perfect, and you can do a spell to make me invisible to everyone except for you," he says, sticking out a hand to help Baz up. Baz, because he's weak when it comes to matters of Simon Snow, groans and allows himself to be hoisted to his feet.

"This better be quick, at least," he says.

* * *

It isn't quick.

They get to the field, somewhere so far on the outskirts of London that it makes Baz wonder whether Simon's been thinking about this for longer than he admitted. In all likelihood, it's been an entirely unconscious process; Baz has never met someone as unaware of the goings-on of their own brain as Simon is.

In any case, the field's fairly large and covered in yellow-green grass. Simon, his wings a deep shade of red, makes a striking figure as he stands in the middle of it, even though his impatient fiddling as he waits for Baz to cast the spell kind of ruins the effect.

"Are you done yet?"

"No, Snow, I'm not done yet. Believe it or not, I actually want to be sure that I have this right before I cast a possibly-dangerous spell that I've never practiced before."

"Aww, so you do care."

"Fuck off, Snow."

And then, before Simon has a chance to reply: " **For my eyes only**."

Nothing changes from Baz's perspective, which means that the spell at least hasn't gone horribly wrong. Simon gives a little whoop and bounces on his toes.

"Alright," he says, flaps his wings hard, and fails to do anything other than mess Baz's hair up from the wind. There's a pause as Simon furrows his brow in confusion.

"That didn't work," Simon says.

"Observant, aren't you."

"No, but—it worked before."

Baz shrugs and steps back so he won't be buffeted by the wind that Simon stirs up. He has a theory as to why it isn't working, but he's not willing to share it yet.

Simon shakes his head, then tries again. His wings flap frantically for a moment, and when he fails to do so much as lift an inch off the ground (which Baz expected), he groans in annoyance and points an accusatory finger at Baz.

"You."

"Yes?" Baz asks, lifting an eyebrow.

"It worked before, and it isn't working now, and it's your fault, isn't it."

Baz wrinkles his nose. "It's my fault that you're not able to lift off the ground with a wingspan only as long as you are tall, underused wind muscles, no starting momentum, and a body that didn't evolve to fly?"

"Yes," Simon says decidedly, although the slump of his shoulders suggests that he's less annoyed and more crestfallen. Baz looks at him for a second. He weighs the amount of guilt he's going to feel for this later against how much he wants to not be standing in this grass.

"I guess we'll go then?" Baz asks, injecting just the right amount of hopefulness, exasperation, and fondness into his voice.

Unfortunately, Simon's known him for too long, and Baz's obvious bit of manipulation entirely misses its mark.

"Well, you can go," Simon says, glancing determinedly around the field. "I'm not leaving until I've managed to fly for at least a little while."

"And how, exactly, are you planning to do that?"

Simon's eyes, having just found what he was looking for, light up.

"Tree!" he says. "I'm going to jump off a tree."

* * *

Baz wants a raise. He's not getting paid for this, but the point is that he  _should_ be. Watching Simon repeatedly jump out of a tree with no plan at all other than to spread his wings and hopefully fly has taken at least ten years off of Baz's life.

Not that he's going to admit it, of course. Baz is theoretically almost done with his book, having been flipping pages throughout the afternoon, and if Simon asks him what it's about, Baz is well-prepared to answer competently. SparkNotes truly is magical, and the best thing about reading it is that one can do so while keeping an eye on your probably-suicidal boyfriend as he attempts to kill himself.

The end result of the afternoon is that Baz has had three separate heart attacks and Simon's managed to glide a full twenty yards from the top of the tree. Also, the grass next to where Baz was sitting will never be the same, for which Baz is apologetic. It's not the grass's fault that Baz is stupid enough to be dating Simon Snow.

"Did you see that?" Simon asks on the way back to the train station. He's practically skipping. "I totally flew! I mean, it wasn't very far, but next time I can do better, and then eventually I'll be able to do it without the tree! I can't wait to see Penny's face when she gets back."

Simon's grin is bright and infectious, and Baz swears that someday he'll be able to stop himself from smiling back. That day is not today.

They grin at each other for a moment, and then something registers for Baz.

"Sorry, did you say next time?" he asks.

Simon nods, so earnest that it almost hurts. "I'm going to need lots of practice if I want to actually be able to fly, aren't I?"

Baz thinks of all the dirt that's probably permanently embedded under his fingernails and of the inside of his cheek, which he has gnawed until it's almost bleeding.

"I suppose so," he says. "Lots of practice."

A few minutes later, when Simon asks him to undo the partial-invisibility spell, Baz has to force himself to breathe deeply before casting so that he won't accidentally transport Simon into the next dimension.

_Lots of practice_ , Baz thinks.  _Lots of practice_.

* * *

Penny comes back a week later.

"What've you been doing?" she asks, and is appropriately surprised and impressed when Simon shows her that he is now, in fact, capable of flight.

She turns to Baz. "And you?"

Baz sighs deeply, hoping that he looks as put-upon as he feels. "His idea of learning to fly was falling out of a tree over and over again until something happened. He broke his arm three times, Penny, and almost cracked his head open twice." Penny winces in sympathy. "I feel at least half a century older."

Simon laughs. "You did look kind of haggard, after the second time I sprained my arm."

The indignation Baz experiences at this moment is difficult to describe. Simon wasn't the one who had to twist his boyfriend's arm out of the unnatural angle that it was stuck in as said boyfriend did his best to act as though it didn't hurt.

"That wasn't funny!" he sputters.

Simon's amused expression clearly begs to disagree. "It really was," Simon says. "I mean, you've got magic, haven't you, it'd be hard for me to get injured enough for it to be a problem."

"Yeah, but that's not the  _point_." Baz struggles to regain even a semblance of dignity. "The point is it's scary to watch you jump out of trees. I was worried, you prick."

"Oh, were you?" Simon asks. Baz has no idea where he learned to be such an asshole.

"You," Baz begins what is likely to be a rather long speech, "are quite literally the worst—"

"Well!" Penny interrupts. "I'm going to go unpack my things now."

She makes her escape. Simon and Baz are left staring at the empty doorway, which is good because Baz is fairly sure that he's blushing and has been for a while now.

"Were you really worried?" Simon asks again, this time sounding sincerely curious.

Baz considers the merits of hitting him.

"Yes, you moron. Of course I was."


End file.
